


(a comprehensive guide to princes and knights and how not to acquire jellyroot)

by morexu



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Reverse Big Bang 2019, Boarding School, Homophobia, Love at First Sight, M/M, Royalty AU, andrew is a knight, but it still is, but not really, neil is a prince, neil is a young gay, nicky is neil's attending servant, their friendship is cute, they run off to a little cottage to love each other in secret, things get a little heated but it's not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 11:51:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18093767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morexu/pseuds/morexu
Summary: Neil is a young prince of Palmetta. When he was just a boy, he was saved by a mysterious kid from a thug. Neil isn't sure who he is, or why he did what he did. That is, until he sees him again and this time, he's going to get some answers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my reverse bang fic ! thank you to requiemofkings (tumblr) who made some gorgeous art, and to gabriella for organising it !

The first thing Neil notices when he steps out of the parlour is how dark it is. He always found that when he was in the dingy Trojan parlour, time slipped over the patrons like a warm, thick honey. He swore he only looked at a few of the herbs Jeremy stocked in the back, the bright afternoon shining outside, and now it was dark enough that Neil could barely see his hands in front of him. (He swears he’d only looked at a few of the herbs Jeremy had stocked in the back, the bright afternoon shining outside, but when he looks outside it’s dark enough that Neil can barely see his hands in front of him.) 

 

Neil is glad he has spent the last ten years of his life sneaking out of the palace and into the markets, because even in the darkness, he knows he can get back to the palace without a hitch. 

 

He begins quietly walking through the bendy backstreets, smoke and the stench of spilled brews and wilted herbs assaulting his senses. These parts of town, whilst close to the palace gates, are always where the ruined fortune tellers and magicians lurk in the witching hours. Thankfully, the dim green lights and the hanging lanterns from window sills above give Neil just enough light to see the flicker of a thin, silver knife, before it’s being pressed roughly against his throat. 

 

“Make a noise and you’re just another dead kid,” growls a husky voice in his ear, the faint smell of a strength providing brew, a wisp curling with a faint green colour. “Won’t be the first the streets see, definitely not the last,” says the woman, laughing drunkenly. Neil didn’t struggle, a deer in headlights, throat bobbing as he swallows. “I want your jellyroot, hand it over nice and slow for me.” 

 

Here’s the thing- Neil came all this way for that jellyroot. He needs it for his Serene Sleep brew for his cat, Mau. She isn’t sleeping, isn’t eating- he needs her to make it through the winter, and hopefully the gentle brew will help restore her strength. He makes the split decision whether he’d rather die here or let Mau die during the winter without the jellyroot. So Neil doesn’t move, he just stands stationary and holds his breath. 

 

The woman grunts and shifts, and Neil thinks he’s dead meat for certain, is ready to have to apologise to Uncle from the grave- but the woman slumps forward, falling face first. The shiny handle of a knife protrudes from her back and Neil gives a punched out breath, hand flying to his neck and finding no blood spilling. He turns sharply, only to find he’s staring at a cloaked boy. 

 

The dark cloak can’t hide his silvery hair, or his stark amber eyes. Neil levels his gaze and rolls his shoulders back, trying to look taller, but it’s a vain attempt- the other boy is taller, and older, maybe four or five years older than Neil. At ten years old, it’s a significant gap. 

 

“You know, for a prince, your self preservation skills should be a little more developed,” comes the gravelly, harsh voice of the boy. Neil gapes like the koi fish in the pond before retorting with an eloquent, 

 

“What?” 

 

“He would have killed you, Neil-” 

 

“How do you know my name?” he intejects, temporarily forgetting that he’s the nephew to the King and the only heir to the throne. 

 

Andrew rolls those gold eyes and Neil tracks the movement with his own. He’s entranced, he can barely hide it. 

 

“Next time, don’t come out in the night. And the jellyroot is not worth dying for, believe me,” he says wryly, making Neil flush with enchantment and embarrassment in equal measure. Neil is about to reply, but Wymack is running around the corner, armour clinking, the rest of the Prince’s Guard running behind him. 

 

“My Prince!” he calls, and Neil turns back towards him, waving disarmingly. Cheeks still pink, hood down and red curls plastered to his forehead, he is the picture of a child who has found a new friend, cheerful, despite the darkness and the events of the night. 

 

“Wymack, you mustn’t worry, I’m fine, he saved me,” Neil begins, beaming, turning back to look at the boy, introduce him, maybe get him inducted in knighthood- but all there is to see is the darkness of the alley and the bleeding out man. Neil’s shoulders sag immediately, turning back to Wymack. “He was just here, Mack, he stabbed the guy before he could hurt me,” he says helplessly. 

 

Wymack stares down at him, then at the bag of jellyroot, clasped tightly in his little hands. “His Majesty was very concerned with your whereabouts, Neil,” Wymack says reprovingly, arms folded over his armoured chest. Neil makes a whiny, desperate sound, before humphing and folding his arms. 

 

“I don’t need the whole Guard, Mack,” he grumbled, “I can take care of myself.” 

 

Wymack raises his eyebrows and leans to the side, looking at the dying man with deep scepticism, before looking back at Neil. 

 

“Well, it’s not my fault it got dark really quick!” he whined, before Wymack extends his arm and points to the rest of the guard, a silent order. 

 

Neil glares at him before storming off, walking between the guards all the way back to the palace. 

 

However, as Neil laid in his bed that night, the disbelief and the chastising talk with his Uncle start to bother him less as he relives the conversation with the boy, cheeks regaining a healthy flush in the darkness of his room. He’s pretty sure he falls asleep grinning. 


	2. part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re going to be missed around the Castle. I’ve never been quite so sad about a return to Deutsch and to Erik,” he said with a soft, sad chuckle. “I’ll write you though. I swear it.” 
> 
> Neil nodded, and grabbed onto Nicky’s hand. “As will I. You have to keep me posted on Castle gossip. And if Uncle finds a mistress,” he said slyly, grinning a big, conniving grin that only Neil could pull off in such a circumstance.

Neil was bored. He was sick of the books and their mind numbing contents. He looked out the window of the drawing room he’s been sat in, unable to see the knights-in-training from his table, but knowing they were down there, sparring and exercising. He longed to join them, use his legs, stretch out. He turned back to his table, a round wooden thing, decorated with papers and books, illustrated examples of herbs and their medicinal purposes. His tutor was long asleep, a fat old man with a cigar-burnt voice. Neil was completely indifferent to him, and was fine to study as the man slept through their lessons. Usually. 

 

Neil regarded the essay he’d been writing with one more disdainful stare before he walked to the window, opening the glass panes with the brass handles and slipping gracefully onto the narrow strip of stone. If he fell, it was a long way down- and would not be the sort of first (not to mention, last) encounter he’d prefer with the training knights. He kept a slow, careful pace along the stone, feet tapping. Once he was sure he was outside the vision of any of the guards, he slipped into his bedroom window, the window left deliberately open. 

 

Once inside, Neil walked to his closet and changed from his ‘princely attire’ and into his cloak and normal looking trousers. Considering no guard had been told he’d be there, he took his mathematics book as a steady alibi and wandered out of the unguarded room. He slinked around the cold corners of the palace, walking through the kitchens easily, the cooks barely noticing him. He walked into the courtyard, book in hand, skirting the edges of the path, watching Wymack harshly instruct the lanky looking boys and girls, hopeful of getting into the highly coveted positions in the King’s Guard. Because from that, members were chosen to become part of the Prince’s Guard- the most prestigious tier of military. 

 

Neil watched carefully, eyes slipping over each candidate carefully, analysing them. If they were potentially guarding him, they must be very skilled. That, and he liked learning visually different tactics, filing them away in his memory for later reference, to practise with Kevin or Jean. He kept a firm eye on one particular woman- Dan, as she was called by Wymack in a clear yell. As she moved to exemplify a specific move, her absence in the lines created a clear view of a short, lanky, oodly-proportioned boy. Short but lanky, but the way the sun caught in his blonde hair, turning it an radiant halo; his golden eyes sharp and focused, made him look unearthly. He looked like the beings Neil had read about in some dull mythology book, the fey, ancient and powerful.

 

Neil inhaled sharply, sharp enough to get Wymack’s attention. 

 

“Neil?” the familiar deep, smoke worn voice asked, incredulous. “What the devil are you doing out here? You’re meant be in lessons!” 

 

Neil, whose eyes remained firmly on the blond boy, simply gaped. “I’m reading?” he said, like it was a question he was asking himself. Finally he snapped his eyes back to Wymack, drawn from that golden gaze. “Yes! Yes, I’m reading, that dull old man finally released me to breathe some air that wasn’t of the fifth century and read my mathematics book here. In the courtyard,” Neil said, and a wave of snickers and surprised-amused gasps sounded amongst the candidates. Wymack turned to them sharply. 

 

“Another sound from any one of you lot and you can all be admitted directly to the warfront,” he groused. They shut up with much haste. “My Prince, might it not be best for you to retire to a balcony? Preferably facing the  _ other side of the palace? _ ” he asked, and Neil hummed thoughtfully. Just as he was about to lay on a bitingly witty response, Professor Keegan appeared in the stone archway, flushed red in the cheeks, the fat under his chin wiggling grotesquely with each livid step he took. 

 

Neil squeaked, eyes widening. “Why, yes. I am truly in very capable hands, aren’t I? Well, thank you kindly for the advice, Mack!” he yelled as he bolted, book in hand, cloak flying behind him as both the Professor’s and Wymack’s yells could be heard fading. 

 

__

 

“You wouldn’t believe him if you saw him, Nicky. He’s simply  _ divine _ ,” Neil moaned, flopping onto his bed, the lush sheets and duvets beneath him sinking like he wished the earth would do to him. “And I made a complete fool of myself. I ran away like a scared little mouse. Just like that night.” 

 

“If you’re a mouse, is he your silver fox?” Nicky asked suggestively, wiggling his dark eyebrows as he laid out Neil’s attire for the ball that night. Neil moaned again, shoving a pillow into his face, hoping that being smothered was a short, painless death. He wished Andrew would smother him.   

 

“I’m just saying. Speaking of… Considering your continued interest in a man. Boy. Whatever. There’s one slight problem. You’re almost sixteen, and the King is going to start insisting you search for a maiden. Feminine. Female. With a-” 

 

“I know, shut it!” Neil snapped, sitting upright, frowning deeply. He deflated as soon as he met Nicky’s sympathetic gaze. “I know, I think it’s why he’s holding this godforsaken ball.” 

 

Nicky sat by him on the bed, dark skin warmed by the bright evening sun streaming through the open window, catching on all Neil’s little trinkets and the gold flecks in the woodwork. “Neil, I know your struggle. But believe me, I thought that when I married Erik, your Uncle would throw me out of this palace. But all he said was that whilst it didn’t read right to him, he blessed our union and hoped for our happiness. He lit a rosemary so the scent would fill the throne room in honour of our marriage. Maybe you should just be honest with him.” 

 

“This is really different, Nicky. He wouldn’t let me be King if he thought there might have two,” Neil said knowingly, giving him a wry look. Nicky nodded understandingly, sighing. 

 

“Well, until then. A ball, in your honour,” Nicky said, getting up grandly, swooping a sheet around him like a magnificent white cape. He pulled it across his face, wiggling his eyebrows again at him. “And you know, all candidates for the Prince’s Guard must attend. A test for their manners, grace and etiquette. We might meet Mr. Fox,” he said as he grinned, and Neil laughed. 

 

“Oh god, let me see that robe. If he’s going to be there, I wanna look my best,” Neil said cheekily, and Nicky laughed brightly. 

 

“That’s the spirit!” 

 

_

  
  


Neil, as an honest man, would admit to feeling truly like a King that night as he stood at the top of the large stone steps into the ballroom. The dark, forest green vest and trousers, white shirt underneath combination (Nicky) was elegant and regal, while still youthful- and the elaborate, long cape behind him, fastened with two large golden emblems resting on his shoulders, connected by a thin chain across his chest (Uncle) was a stark reminder of his title and place. The pearl-handled dagger, fastened in its sheath on his hip (a gift from Wymack) was caught in glimpses behind his cape and made sure anyone who saw him knew of his skill in close combat. His red hair was neatened- at least, as neat as it was going to get- and his blue eyes accentuated with some little pencil Nicky had insisted on. He looked good, and he knew it. 

 

Foreign ministers, court and council members, royal families from all three countries of the continent and possibly even further abroad- Neil felt all their eyes and for just that night, relished in their attentions. 

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I may present my nephew, the Crown Prince of Palmetta, Neil Hatford,” his Uncle said proudly across the ballroom, booming, authoritative voice reaching the ears of every man and woman. Neil walked gracefully to him, the kissing his cheek and waving to the people beneath him, before walking down the steps and being addressed by the Head of Council for each of the three countries- Matt Boyd for Palmetta, Riko Moriyama for Naragatsuya, and Renee Walker for Revedeux. 

 

Neil found himself recoil at the venomous smile of Riko Moriyama, having heard many stories and myths about the man and finding he was every inch as creepy as the staff claimed. He simply bowed politely to each, and exchanged an understanding glance to Matt, who had been his friend and first port of council until he left for parliament when Neil was twelve, Matt being twenty at the time. They still spoke, and were dear friends, but Neil was probably closer to Nicky, now. 

 

As he shifted through the party, countless foreign royals pulled him aside to introduce their daughter. 

 

“Your Highness, if I might steal a second of your time, I must introduce you to Emma, my niece. She’s been dying to meet you.” 

 

“Crown Prince, if I may, without sounding too presumptuous, I would sincerely be so grateful if you could come meet my daughter, Xiomara. She’s lovely and young, and had a question regarding your dagger.” 

 

“Your Highness, my daughter-” 

 

“Sire-” 

 

“Prince Neil-” 

 

Eventually he escaped to a darkened corner, wishing Nicky were here to brush off all the marriage proposals with his quick wit and social skills. Neil, equipped with only a sharp tongue and easy excuses, much preferred his hidey-hole as opposed to the brightness of the festivities. He sipped from his goblet and kept to the darkness, praying that no one would notice him. 

 

“Your Highness,” said a lovely, low voice, but Neil couldn’t refrain from rolling his eyes. He turned to the see the man. 

 

“I’m very sorry, my Lord, but I really can’t meet- oh.” 

 

Neil found himself staring in the face of the boy from the alley, the man from this morning, blond hair and golden eyes, barely a foot away. He gaped like a fish, eyes and mouth wide, cheeks flushed. He breathed in every detail. He wasn’t very tall, but he was still taller than Neil. He had little scars on his hands, probably from handling knives. His hair was kept short but in an event where some gel is almost mandatory, it fell in front of his eyes. 

 

“I only wanted to invite you to meet with Kevin, Matt and I, along with a few of other people, to train. We saw the stunt you pulled this morning and Nicky insisted we invite you to join us,” he said, voice monotonous, but Neil could barely process each word. After an almost awkward lull of silence, Neil gathered his composure. 

 

“Uh, sure. I guess. That sounds fine. Send me a message with the when and where, in writing, to my chambers. Will that be all, Sir...?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at him, trying to cool his cheeks. 

 

“Andrew,” he added, “Sir Andrew Minyard. And yes, that is all. I’ll leave you now, because you are clearly having such a fantastic time over here. In the dark. On your own,” he responded, voice flat, and for some reason that made it all the more funny. Neil gave a tiny, amused smile.

 

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact. I have never had as much fun as I am now,” he replied in the same flat voice, turning so they were shoulder to shoulder, staring at the crowd. 

 

“Good. Highness,” he bowed briefly, eyes filled with mischief and amusement, looking up at Neil from the lowness of the bow. 

 

“I’d say Knight, but you’re not even that, yet,” Neil retorted sassily, pretending his heart wasn’t hammering at the sight of those eyes. 

 

Andrew’s soft huff of laughter as he walked away made the redness settle into the apples of his cheeks. He had to find Nicky, and fast. 

 

__ 

 

“Maybe I should just tell him,” Neil sighed deeply, as Nicky undid the fine laces of the cape. “I mean, what’s the worst he could do? He can’t get rid of me entirely, there’s no one else to inherit the throne. So he’d probably just blackmail me and never let me marry who I wanted to,” he said quietly. 

 

Nicky tutted. “He’s not going to do that. He’s not awful, he just needs to be enlightened,” he said softly, handing Neil his bedclothes. 

 

“But you should have seen him, Nicky. God, he’s enchanting. His eyes look like they’re made of gold. He’s beautiful,” he said softly, voice breathy and absolutely smitten. He slid each layer of fine clothing and replaced them with his bedclothes, humming. 

 

“Did you at least catch a name this time?” Nicky asked, amused and gentle. 

 

“Oh! Yes, I did, thank you very much. Andrew. Andrew Minyard,” he said airily, love practically pouring from his voice. 

 

Nicky choked on his brandy. “Like,  _ Andrew Minyard  _ Andrew Minyard?” he asked, startled. 

 

Neil sat up, unperturbed. “Um.. Yes?” 

 

Nicky hummed, nodding slowly, as if understanding. “Oh, my god. Oh, I see now.” 

 

Neil raised an eyebrow, looking up at him a little more seriously, but a childish gleam of first love glimmered behind it. “What’s that face? What’s going on?” 

 

Nicky looked at him, opening and closing his mouth, as if wanting to say something but being not quite sure how to get them out. “I just… wouldn’t get my hopes up, Neil.” 

 

Neil rolled his eyes, sighing. “Well, I know it’s a long shot, but I think he was flirting with me,” he said softly, giggly, settling right back into the warm haze of ignorance and misguided perceptions of invitations. 

 

Nicky ruffled his hair as he walked past. “Neil, I may have… I may have asked him to invite you along. To their trainings. I know you used to play-spar with Kevin when you were younger, and thought it would be a good way to assert yourself into their little… niche. Andrew’s my cousin, see,” Nicky tacked on the end, putting a hand on Neil’s shoulder, but Neil brushed it off. 

 

“Nicky, don’t be ridiculous! He made that clear to me, I already knew. Honestly is evidently so important to him. He’s so… virtuous…” Neil swooned, and Nicky’s eyebrows raised as he whistled lowly, but Neil plowed on, “Even if it wasn’t an invitation of his own offering, he still made a point of letting me know. Himself! And… he definitely was flirting with me.” 

 

“Neil, have you considered the fact that to Andrew, a training knight, a man of 20 years, you may still be a child?” 

 

Neil sent him his most scorching look. “I might be young but mark my words, he will be mine by the end of the first training.” 

 

___

 

He was not. 

 

Neil ended up slumped into bed, muscles he didn’t even know he  _ had  _ aching. And despite Wymack’s opinions and the utter boredom of lessons, Neil had actually leafed through one of the more progressive anatomy books he’d found (even if it was with the initial intention of look at the naked male sketches). Andrew was as cold and aloof as ever, a stern and focused mentor to Neil, for that first training and the many to come after- they settled on a time, on an evening of the clearest weather, as many times as possible. It was rigorous, and Neil often copped blows to the chest when he got a little too fixated on just  _ how well _ Andrew’s muscles shone in the moonlight, slick with sweat and pulsing with skill, and Neil- 

 

Fell to the ground, a throbbing, blunt pain exploding on his jaw. Jean tutted in a distinctly foreign way. Neil had suspicions about his origins, and he knew Nicky knew something about Jean, but wouldn’t say. He filed the gesticulation for later reference. 

 

“You are distracted, Prince. There is no point trying to actually spar with you when you are clearly just here to moon over Andrew. If you sincerely wish to get his attention,” the tall, dark man said quietly, conspiratorially, “then play along, yes?” 

 

Jean regained his posture, resuming the fighting stance, and then jerking his head fiercely at Neil when the latter hadn’t promptly done the same. Neil swiftly did as directed, eyes hard on Jean’s face. There was no way that Neil could actually beat Jean- even when Neil thought he got ahead, Jean started with newfound energy and skill, if only playing just above Neil’s level, never actually displaying true effort. It was a little bit patronising, Neil had always thought, but he often found himself thinking he was grateful for the consideration. Jean could easily rip him to pieces. 

 

Jean began throwing hard blows to him, but Neil noticed a pattern in how he blocked them. Jean never deviated from the pattern, so when Neil saw an opening, he swung straight to Jean’s chest. Jean fell, even though Neil knew he could withstand much more; but Neil took his chance and played along as directed. He climbed over him and held him to the ground, effectively holding his hands behind his back. 

 

Neil didn’t dare look behind him to Andrew- it was an easy tell it had all been for show- but when he let Jean stand and shook hands with him, Jean gave him a solemn nod before flicking his gaze to Andrew, decisive and triumphant in the subtle, stoic way Jean always was. 

 

Neil felt a beautiful ray of pride run like ichor in his veins, and almost hugged Jean, before nodding to him with the silliest of grins. Just as he began wandering to find a new partner, and maybe a tonic for his jaw (which still really hurt if he was honest, but Neil never was. You know who is though? Andrew. Andrew is such a good, honest man-)

 

“Your Highness.” 

 

A firm hand and a low voice ripped him from his glowing reverie, and Neil turned around sharply, the embers of it still clear in his eyes. 

 

“I saw you with Jean, it seems you’ve learnt a lot,” said those beautiful eyes, Neil almost swooning at the sight of them. But really, what Andrew actually said, was, 

 

“If you falsify a fair game again, I will have your invite to train with us revoked and may have to inform your Uncle of your outings.” 

 

The conversation lasted no more than a minute, but for the proceeding ten, Neil was positively beaming. Tonight had to be the best night of his life. He had to find Nicky. 

 

As he raced up the cold, stone staircase from the courtyard to the Prince’s quarters, he let his hood slip off, the redness of his hair a dead giveaway of his identity, but his heart was so full he could barely care. 

 

Up until, of course, another hand found its way onto his shoulder. Neil, with the brightest and the lightest hopes that it was Andrew and those honey-coloured eyes, turned, unable to school his expression. 

 

“Neil, where have you been?” Uncle Hatford asked, nightgown tied tightly around his slim waist. He was always such a pasty, skinny thing. Neil had often theorised it was why he would never marry- no one even wanted him. He wondered that even now, as he paled and the world got a little more cold, the buzz from the night quelling until he could barely feel it. 

 

“Uncle, please, I was simply-” 

 

“Running around with the knights in training? Whoring yourself off to them? Bending over and asking politely for favours from those rugged peasants? No nephew or heir of mine will parade around in such attire, at such an hour,” the older man hissed, fury clouding his judgement, the normally calm and collected man going ruddy in his pale cheeks. Neil, ever the stand-offish, proud creature, simply stood his ground and met Uncle’s hard gaze with one of his own. 

 

“Clearly you know about my feelings towards men, then. So tell me, Uncle, was your ball tonight a desperate and cowardly denial of the feelings of your only remaining family? Are such a mouse of a man that you cannot fathom two men ruling the Kingdom?” he seethed, lips moving lithely, each word a cut into the fury of the older man. “And you really have so little belief in your own nephew’s skill in combat that you believe the only thing I have to offer the very respectable men about to become my personal guard is my body? Did you not think for one moment, Uncle, that instead of whoring myself off to them, I was learning a skill you had so frequently denied me?” Neil asked, eyes going from hard anger to blankness. “Of course. You’ve never really believed in me, have you, Uncle?” 

 

The older man took a flaming torch from the side of the stairwell. “I will arrange for Nicky to pack your bags. You will be going to boarding school before the sun rises. Do not even entertain the thought of sleep, for you have chosen how will you spend your last night in you chambers, or even in the Castle, until you have completed your education to a standard I deem fit. I will no longer house such an insolent, pathetic child in my Castle,” he growled, before stalking off, leaving Neil in the darkness of the cold stairwell. He returned to his chambers without another word. 

 

The morning, as it gradually got lighter from within the carriage’s windows, was grey and drizzling with a weak attempt at rain as such a dark day for Neil should be. 

 

“This morning is bleak, Nicky. I don’t know what I’ll do for the next four years. Between sitting at desks and playing mud sports with unclassed ruffians, I have not the faintest idea of how I’ll survive,” Neil muttered dramatically, the carriage hitting a bump, knocking them both from their chairs. Nicky sighed sympathetically, patting his leg. 

 

“You’re going to be missed around the Castle. I’ve never been quite so sad about a return to Deutsch and to Erik,” he said with a soft, sad chuckle. “I’ll write you though. I swear it.” 

 

Neil nodded, and grabbed onto Nicky’s hand. “As will I. You have to keep me posted on Castle gossip. And if Uncle finds a mistress,” he said slyly, grinning a big, conniving grin that only Neil could pull off in such a circumstance. 


	3. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We shall see if those fencing lessons at boarding school taught you anything. Meet me in the courtyard at dusk. Jean is not invited to help you this time. A

Neil stepped out of the carriage, expensive leather shoes crunching the gravel of the entrance to the castle. Neil only grinned at Nicky, who rushed down the stone stairs of the Castle to wrap his arms around his mentee, his ward, his friend. 

 

“Nicky, did they feed you in Deutsch? You look ragged and archaic, my friend,” Neil teased, plucky a hair from Nicky’s head. “Are these… grey?” he chuckled as Nicky slapped Neil’s shoulder and brushed away a few miscreant tears. 

 

“You’re just as troublesome as when you left,” he said slyly, squinting at him. 

 

“No, that has not changed, along with many things…. height, interest in women.” 

 

“Or lack thereof,” Nicky added, slinging an arm around Neil’s shoulders and directly the servants to carry Neil’s bags in. “So tell me, any many homoerotic flings in boarding school?”

 

“Of course. You wouldn’t believe the pathological closet cases I saw, Nick. Foreign minister’s children. Sons and daughters of dignitaries. The scandal of it all was suffocating,” he said, walking with him directly to the courtyard, mouth quick and sharp, but eyes searching. 

 

Nicky, oblivious, continued to natter, asking questions about school to which Neil idly responded, before Nicky gave a long sigh. 

 

“Well, you’ll be glad to know that your punishment was not in vain. You won’t believe the success of all your friends, our friends, in the Guard. Some even got promoted to-” 

 

“Highness, it sure seems to have been a while,” said that belt-loosening, heart-quickeningly familiar voice. Neil, despite his stories, had only had one or two proper sexual encounters while away- both distinctly unsatisfying, both boys paling in comparison to the man Neil turned to see. 

 

“Are you a Knight now? May I address as such as I couldn’t the last time we met?” Neil said sharply, cheekbones high and regal, blue eyes cold but betraying the thick, hot feeling that slid slowly down his spine at the sight of Andrew. 

 

“Such little faith, Highness. I believe you may address me however you like, as I am your primary attending guard. What’s that quote from that play you pretend you don’t love? Ah, ‘a rose by any other name’?” 

 

“And you suggest you are a rose?” Neil asked, eyebrows raised, concealing his reaction to that news expertly, considering it was definitely indecent for a place as innocent and populated as the courtyard. Andrew looked flat and disinterested as ever, but Neil knew better. Andrew wasn’t anywhere he didn’t want to be. 

 

“Thorns and all.” 

 

Neil, satisfied with that answer, simply hummed. “See to it that my belongings are carried adequately to my room. I have very delicate equipment. If it breaks, I will consider yourself at fault,” Neil said remorselessly, but the fondness in his voice, the playful nature of every verbal parry was unparalleled. Andrew simply nodded and bowed politely. 

 

“Anything for you, Highness.” 

 

___

 

“First of all, how dare he! How dare he be so nonchalant about everything! Doesn’t he know the effect his words may have?” Neil practically shrieked, Nicky sitting opposite him in the sand, by the waterfront. “He’s around me all day, every day, looking like that, with that stupid sexy voice of his! It’s only been two weeks since I came home, and it’s like he’s waiting to see who will crack first. Ever since that first meeting, the sexual tension is tangible. But if I just… throw myself at him, he’ll just embarrass me!” he whined, flopping back and letting the cold water wash over his toes with each incoming wave. 

 

Nicky snorted, amused grin glinting in the hot, summer sun. “You really are tragic,” he rolled his warm eyes. “I’ve watched you mope over him for too long. Especially with a four year gap. You’re not a child, and he’s definitely seen that. You’re clearly interested, he’d clearly interested. Just tease him. Make it unbearable for him to resist you! He’ll come crashing down. He’s already cracking at the edges, according to Aaron and Kevin. Underneath the stoic, composed exterior, he’s burning with the passion to rip off your-” 

 

“Okay, okay! I will start Plan Seduction. Please no graphic details, especially from you.” 

 

Nicky splashed him with the cold water, grinning delightedly. 

 

Later in the afternoon, once Neil had gratefully been cleansed of all the sand and salt, he began regaling some of the tales of his and Nicky’s three day getaway in preparation for the King’s return from a foreign country on business to Kevin and Jean, Andrew surprisingly and according to the former two men, unexplainably. 

 

There would be a ball to announce Neil’s return publicly, in addition to his Uncle’s return from his latest affair in Isle of Espinosa, a far country, a week’s boat-trip away. That was another thing Neil had noticed in his time in school abroad- Uncle was spending far too much time outside of his own-it meant that Neil could flirt with as many guards (or really, just the one guard) as much as he liked without fear of retribution. 

 

Neil sighed as he looked out the window of his room, chin resting on his palm. He had survived the torments of boarding school, and he needed a plan to get Andrew to pursue him- both of them too stubborn to admit their feelings and desires. It seemed as though it would be easy, but nothing with Andrew involved ever was. It would take tact, mastery, tricks and finely-tuned self discipline. 

 

_ Let the games begin,  _ Neil thought as a warm smirk spread across his lips. 

 

___

  
  


It was a warm evening, foreign dignitary’s robes floating in Neil’s peripheral vision as he stands around the courtyard, the last rays of sun catching his eyes in the glass of the lanterns. He nursed the thick glass against his chest, idly sipping. He had always found his Uncle’s events horrendously boring- and this one was no exception. 

 

That was, up until Andrew had become his bodyguard. He would occasionally make a quip about a man who was clearly unable to handle the spice of the foreign food- sweat pearling on a bald forehead and tears gathering in small, squinting eyes- just to hear the subtle huff that Andrew gave, stoic as ever, but undeniably amused. 

 

Neil offered Andrew a glass of the bubbly drink, knowing fully that Andrew was not allowed to drink while on duty. Andrew’s entrapping eyes sharpened at the same time as Neil’s grin did. 

 

“Are you sure? You had no qualms pickling your liver in my presence before I left for boarding school…” he mumbled, feigning a pout. “But then again, we’re both different people, now that I’ve returned,” he said, Neil’s hand travelling not-so-subtly from Andrew’s shoulder to his bicep, biting his lip as he squeezed the tight muscle under Andrew’s shirt. 

 

Andrew did not look amused, but the molten gold in his eyes betrayed the way he was truly feeling. He was tense, but not uncomfortably so- as if he was physically restraining himself from reciprocating the touch. Neil almost leant up, their attraction as strong as two magnets desperate to be pushed together as close as physically possible- 

 

“Your Highness, if I may present Sir Reginald Leighton, and his daughter, Mistress Julia Leighton,” said one of the servants, clearing his throat awkwardly. From a distance, Neil spotted his Uncle and the ever-present wariness that the man adorned in his face. Neil knew he and his Uncle had made an agreement- Neil would continue to meet young regal ladies until Neil decided or found someone to marry, but he would be able have male visitors and the counterpart to a mistress, of sorts. Except, when he really let himself think about it, Neil could never trap an innocent woman into a loveless marriage, and really, Neil would much rather rule a kingdom with one particular male blond by his side. 

 

Neil turned, plastering a fake, but polite smile on his face. And when the fake, but polite conversation was over, Neil thought that the barely visible and slightly sadistic smile on Andrew’s lips might just have been worth it. 

 

__

 

Occasions like this happen for long months stretched out into one long, hazy summer; Neil’s tongue darting out to wet his lower lip purely on instinct as he watched Andrew devour one the juicy peaches from the orchard, the stick sweet liquid dripping down his fingers and his chin. Andrew’s keen eyes on Neil as the Prince dips himself into the lake, in naught but his thin trousers, giving an unholy moan at the sensation of the cool water on his sun-kissed skin. Neil’s flushed cheeks as Andrew appears behind him one night, that last night before the summer is officially over, some of the trees prematurely going golden in a horrific truth. 

 

Andrew hardly ever touched him beyond what was necessary while he was on duty, but he slipped a calm, steady hand around Neil’s waist from behind, a thin slip of paper falling into the pocket of Neil’s trousers as he tried in vain to count the last of the season’s healing herbs in the Castle’s garden. It was around the time that Andrew would be taking a break between afternoon duty and night duty, to eat and possibly rest. 

 

But Andrew clearly had other plans. 

 

_ We shall see if those fencing lessons at boarding school taught you anything. Meet me in the courtyard at dusk. Jean is not invited to help you this time. A _

 

Neil’s heart gave a flutter as Andrew’s warm body shifted from the place behind him, leaving Neil in the humid greenhouse alone, but with a plan for later that make his pulse race.

 

He continued blithely with his tasks for the remainder of the afternoon, occasionally gazing over at the sun, just for safekeeping, making sure he wasn’t going to be late. 

 

Nicky helped him dress, in the goldening hours of the afternoon, just before nightfall. Neil flitted about, jumping from room to room until Nicky gave an exasperated sigh. 

 

“Neil, just go to him already. Jumping about like a lemming helps no one,” he sighed, practically pushing Neil to the stairwell. 

 

Neil gave one last huff before walking down the cold steps, and out into the warm air, the tendrils of a summer breeze making his red curls sweep over his forehead. He looked out to the courtyard, heart hammering, wondering if he was too early, if he was too late, if he made a mistake coming at all. 

 

“Neil,” came the voice from behind him, and desperately, he turned and when settled his eyes on exactly the face he was hoping for, he gave a sigh of relief. 

 

“Andrew,” he said, breath rushing out, betraying his heart stopping relief and the simple joy of looking at Andrew’s face in the last rays of sunlight. Andrew looked as unimpressed as ever, but Neil saw the fond-softened edges of his eyes. He was so tempted to fall into his arms, admit defeat in their game, kiss him silly, but Neil was too stubborn a creature to do something like that. 

 

“We’ll do three rounds of sparring, and this time, I won’t be holding back,” Andrew taunted, and Neil simply rolled his eyes in response. “You can roll those eyes all you like, it doesn’t change the fact I’m still better than you at hand to hand.” 

 

Neil scoffed, fuelled by determination, assumed the familiar position of combat, and Andrew mirrored him. He threw the first punch, and thus began the glorified tango of hard fists and dodges. 

 

Neil ducked and swore that Andrew was wanting to take out his teeth. He wasn’t afraid, however, so he just ducked further to avoid the crooked fist.

 

A well-timed kick under the legs made Andrew fall flat onto the grass, but in the dark, Neil couldn’t see the pale arm shooting out to drag him down, and then Neil was on top of him, and there was a hand on his cheek, and Andrew was whispering, “May I?” in the softest voice, and Neil’s resolve crumbles. 

 

He leaned in, with a soft nod, their lips brushed. 

 

Like an overflowing well, the emotions surge up in the both of them, Andrew’s hand tightening in the wake of that first kiss, Neil drowning in the feeling, and only diving in deeper. Their lips held together, and Andrew gently pulled back, his lips curling up into the softest smile that Neil couldn’t help mirroring. 

 

He drew a shaking breath, lungs rattling as the colour rushed to his cheeks. He gently tucked his burning face into the space between Andrew’s neck and shoulder. 

 

Andrew gave a faint chuckle, and Neil’s ears turn a shade deeper red. 

 

“I never thought I’d see you speechless,” Andrew mumbled and Neil gave a near hysterical laugh, curled up against his chest. 

 

“I never thought I’d beat you at hand to hand,” Neil sniped back, fondness all too present. Andrew scoffed, Neil felt it against his forehead, before rolling them over and pinning Neil’s hands above his head. 

 

“Really, you  _ beat  _ me, did you?” he asked, and Neil laughed so brightly, Andrew can barely resist pressing another long kiss to his lips. 

 

_____

  
  


It became part of their routine- the sneaking around, the stolen kisses in hallways, the hidden spots that became the birthplaces of many a nightfall rendezvous, the tiny glances, the teasing and purposeful innuendo. 

 

On the nights Neil couldn’t spend with Andrew, he was gushing to Nicky about the softness of Andrew’s lips, the way he never seemed to smile but his eyes betrayed him. Even Kevin and Matt seemed distinctly invested in their new secret relationship, even though the revealing of it had been particularly turbulent. 

 

Andrew had had Neil up against the cold stone of a Castle stairwell, lips warm and damp against Neil’s neck, the younger boy’s legs wrapped tightly around Andrew’s waist. Neil’s mouth formed a pretty ‘o’ at the foreign feeling, clinging tightly to Andrew, cheeks pink, eyes almost shut. 

 

Until the door swung open and there was the clambering of big men down the stairs, Kevin and Matt’s faces plastered with worry. 

 

“See! I told you he was fine- oh my god, Neil, really?” Nicky’s voice rang out, exasperation in his tone. 

 

Both of Neil’s secondary guard’s faces were completely slack at the sight before them, Neil’s ears going red as his cheeks flamed. 

 

“I can explain,” he squeaked, but Andrew just turned and glared at the three men. 

 

“Speak of this and I mention the Morning After Naran,” Andrew said, tone dangerous and low. It made Neil whine and suck on a spot under Andrew’s ear, wiggling in the blond man’s grasp. 

 

Both of them visibly paled. “You wouldn’t,” rebutted Matt, shocked to the core. 

 

“He would,” Kevin said carefully. 

 

Nicky rolled his eyes. “No, he won’t. Next you sneak off at least tell us so we don’t think Neil has skipped town back to boarding school,” he chided, but managed to take both of the other men away. 

 

Distantly, Neil heard them berating Nicky over not saying anything, but he was too busy giggling into Andrew’s shoulder. 

 

“We need to find a better spot.” 

 

They had agreed to wait, to do anything else- especially taking off clothes- for a time that didn’t involve a hallway or a monitored bedroom; but that doesn’t mean it was easy on them. 

 

Andrew, forced to observe Neil in the bath house as the young Prince washed his toned, lithe body amongst the steam and the lavish salts. 

 

Neil, hard pressed to look away from Andrew as he sparred with Kevin and Matt in the courtyard, sweaty and shirtless. 

 

The fondness for the other and the undeniable tension resulted in many maids and servants losing bets, handing over silver and gold to their friends, and them becoming a constant circulation of Castle gossip. 

 

“You know… you when Erik and I first married, we stayed in a groundskeeper’s cottage on the edge of the grounds?” Nicky said one afternoon, folding Neil’s clothes as Neil put them in his closet. 

 

Neil nodded, absent in the way he always was when Nicky went off on an anecdotal tirade about his husband. 

 

“Well, Erik stays there when he visits, but we’ve been considering buying a cottage in the town, so if you and Andrew needed a place to… spend the night in secrecy, you could stay there,” Nicky said softly, looking into Neil’s face as he spoke, handing over a pair of trousers. 

 

Neil was slack-jawed, staring at him, the cogs visibly turning in his mind. After a beat of silence, he launched himself into Nicky’s arms. He sniffled as he clung around his neck and gave a little sob. 

 

“I love you so much, Nicky,” he whispered, pulling away to grin at him. “You’re the best older brother-and-attendant,” he said genuinely, laughing brightly. 

 

Nicky grinned right back at him. “I couldn’t be prouder of you. Your Uncle will come around. Just give him time,” he said softly, ruffling Neil’s hair. He handed him a key and shoved him towards the door. 

 

“Andrew’s in the courtyard,” he advised, grinning devilishly. “Go.” 

 

Neil ran down the stairs, cape flying out behind him. It wasn’t yet dark enough to warrant a lantern, but Neil stole a torch off the wall just in case the house had no lights. 

 

He burst out the doors, sending them flying out behind him as he raced towards Andrew. The blond was sitting under a tree reading, and Neil stopped in front of him, panting and sweaty. 

 

“If you’re showing up to me already out of breath and red faced, I’m definitely interested in how the night will end,” Andrew said, fond and joking, the cool exterior worn down as soon as he saw the running redhead. 

 

“Don’t even joke, I’ve gotten us a house for the night. And hopefully many more,” he said, seriously about to faint from the mix of overwhelming emotions. “Nicky can make excuses for me tonight, however, so get off your rectum and come with me before we get caught,” Neil said hurriedly, dragging Andrew by the hand to stand and walk with him. 

 

Andrew huffed out a surprised laugh, but complied. Neil often wondered if Andrew thought he was exceptionally subtle with his fondness for Neil. 

 

He was not. 

 

Andrew kissed Neil’s fingers and held his hand as they walked down the cobblestone path. Neil blushed, and gave the happiest sigh, relaxing the further they got from the Castle. Andrew rolled his eyes as Neil kissed his cheek, excited like it was Christmas. 

 

“Truly, I think you must be the most easily pleased Prince in the Empire,” Andrew chided, ably pretending he was not also going vaguely ruddy. 

 

Neil simply shrugged, too enamoured to give a proper response. “I’m most pleased that I get to be with my secret lover for an entire night, uninterrupted,” he whispered salaciously, and Andrew raised his eyebrows. 

 

“Ah, yes. It will be a nice rest for the both of us. Early, in separate beds… Maybe a pot of tea in the morning-“ 

 

Neil flicked out his tongue and laved a wet stripe down over Andrew’s neck. Andrew gave a visible shiver and nearly tripped over. 

 

“I hope that you crawl into my bed and do so many horrid things that my Uncle will blush when he hears my cries,” he whispered, low and dirty, playful on the surface. 

 

Andrew looked undeniably aroused, until he scrunched up his face. “Don’t remind me of your Uncle or we really will be very inactive tonight,” he said remorsefully and Neil gave the most undignified of cackles. 

 

When Neil steps foot in the little cottage, he busies himself lighting the torches and dusting, while Andrew makes a fire, the last tendrils of natural light not doing much for the cool chill of the autumn night. Neil admired Andrew’s very…  _ capable  _ hands and simply laid himself on the large bed, easily designed for two men- despite the fact that Andrew was not very tall nor wide. Neither was Neil- who, according to Aaron, had the stature of a twelve year old maiden. Andrew had nearly punched his brother for the words, but the last time Andrew caused a ruckus in the Prince’s Guard, he’d been put on probation, which meant not seeing Neil for three days. 

 

Neil gave a loud, wanting sigh, hoping to gain the attention of the busy blond. 

 

“You are so cruel. Many men would jump at the chance to take the purity of the Prince of Palmetta, and yet you are too busy tending to your  _ fire _ ,” Neil said poutily, propped up on the bed in very little clothing, merely a thin, silk robe. 

 

“Well, when it’s the witching hours and you’re freezing, do not say you need a fi-“ he turned, regarding Neil with the most intense of gazes. 

 

“I should hope something else will be keeping me very warm tonight,” Neil teased, spreading his legs and Andrew stepped ever closer to him. 

 

“Neil, are you sure-“ he started, eyes closed as if the mere sight of Neil was too much for his restraint. It was all too entirely gratifying. 

 

“Yes, for the Deeps sake, Andrew, I want you so far inside me I’ll have you in my throat,” he groaned making grabby-hands for Andrew, like an infant.  Andrew barely had taken off his coat by the time Neil’s long fingers were on him, stripping him and sucking on his neck, kneeling on the bed as Andrew stood, weak-kneed. Once Andrew was suitably undressed, in just the linen trousers of a commoner, the blond had regained enough of his strength to push Neil back and take control. 

 

Neil gave a soft whimper- the manhandling had always gotten to him, and had made rugby extremely awkward in boarding school. 

 

Neil leaned up to kiss Andrew again, lips parted and wanting. Andrew met him halfway, mouth domineering over Neil’s. 

 

Impatient as ever, Neil squirmed beneath him and kissed his throat. “Drew, just get on with it, pl-“ 

 

“Don’t say please, and don’t touch my backside,” Andrew rasped, looking so vulnerable for just a moment. Neil nodded like a lost little lamb, confused but willing.

 

“If you may, I would deeply appreciate it if you could rod me so hard I never walk again, thanks,” he whispered, trying to be polite and not say please. 

 

Andrew’s face morphed from the horrible, what-if-I-get-rejected to one of fond amusement, and Neil kisses him once again. “I love you, Drew,” he whispered. “But really. I’m losing my mind here.” 

 

Andrew finally gave up the act and brushed Neil’s robe to the side, taking him in hand. Neil’s hand flew to his mouth, overwhelmed at such a simple touch. Andrew grinned and pressed his thumb into Neil’s slit and gave him such a small lick that Neil cried out almost immediately, trying to stop himself, but it was too late. 

 

Neil, panting, was bright red and Andrew was still grinning. Neil flopped backwards and pushed a pillow over his face. “Dreeewwwwww,” he groaned, ashamed and embarrassed. 

 

“Yes, Neil?” he asked gently, peeling away the pillow. 

 

“I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to- I was supposed to last longer than that,” he said softly, pouting. “M sorry,” he mumbled and Andrew just kissed his forehead, like he’d never do in public. 

 

“We have all night for you to get all riled up again, which is no doubt going to be soon. And if you don’t think I’m going to enjoy every single moment of you losing your control over the littlest things, you’re dead wrong,” Andrew said soothingly, petting his hair. 

 

Neil smiled faintly, still very embarrassed, until it morphed into something carnal and sinful. “Let me make it up to you,” he suggested, a soft finger travelling down Andrew’s chest, slipping beneath his waistband. “I’m sure I can think of something…” 

 

Andrew’s head hit the pillow at the same time Neil’s lips sealed around his cock. 

  
  


Neil stirred when the curtains, which he’d neglected to shut in the haste of the night, revealed the brilliant rising sun. The surroundings are foreign, and it suddenly hits Neil like a train. His eyes turn to Andrew, who’d turned the other way in the sleep. Neil pressed a tiny kiss to his shoulder blade and admired him in the sun.  

 

Neil was so content. So happy and peaceful and calm. He was in bed with the love of his life, and right then, right then, he knew that if Uncle’s guards came for him, he’d step down as King and live with Andrew in the countryside. This truly was all he wanted. 

 

Andrew shifted, and reached out for Neil, who took his hand and kissed his fingers. “Good morning, Drew,” he whispered, unable to stop the grin from bleeding onto his face. 

 

Andrew gives a low, husky groan and Neil is hopeless but to press a soft kiss to his lips. Andrew is smiling softly when he pulled away, and Neil smiles back. 

 

“It is,” Andrew agreed, his warm hand going to Neil soft cheek, cupping the skin and kissing his forehead. “Won’t the King be wondering where his wily nephew has gotten to?” 

 

Neil rolled his pretty eyes and kissed Andrew again to shut him up. 

 

The cottage became a point of reference between the two- a meeting whenever they had a night to spare, a hidey hole in the chill of the afternoon. Neil found himself more often than not on his back, clinging to Andrew above him, sometimes crying out, sometimes watching Andrew’s face contort in pleasure. Sometimes both. 

 

For a time, things were good. 

 

__


	4. part three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Must you always just sit and stare at me?” Andrew asked, fondness seeping through the sleepy rasp.
> 
>  
> 
> Neil considered sniping back at him, but he simply smiled, relief too present in his sigh. “I must.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fifth chapter will be an epilogue. but later

Neil burst through the doors, hot anger searing through him. His boots tapped on the marble floors, the furious stomps preceding him all the way to his Uncle’s throne. 

 

“How dare you take him from me?” Neil yelled, red with anger. “He is the finest of men, and you have treated him like the dirt on your shoe,” he growled, standing right above his Uncle. 

 

The older man’s greying hairs floated with the heavy breaths Neil was giving, but his face was stoic. 

 

“Nephew, I only want what is best for the Kingdom. I spoke with the officials, and you can be King with a spouse. You won’t be able to see that commoner, but-“ 

 

“That commoner,” he spat, “saved my life at the risk of his own. I was but a child and he killed my pursuer. He was the finest guard I could have ever requested. And I love him with my whole heart,” he said, voice dangerously even. “And if being King means I can’t be with him, then I guess Nicky can be King. I don’t care about the throne if Andrew is not by my side. Goodbye, Uncle. I hope we never cross paths again,” he said, fury dripping on every word as he stalked from the throne room. 

 

Brief and unfair, exactly as Andrew’s removal from guardship had been. 

 

It had been all over before it began- Neil had waited, and waited, and fallen asleep in the cold bed, and woken up without Andrew. He remembered reaching out for him, and feeling nothing. His heart had dropped, the panic settling in. 

 

He knew something had happened, then. He’d ran to the Castle, ran to the usual spots, before running right into Kevin. 

 

“Where is Andrew?” he yelled, looking up at Kevin fiercely. “Where is he?” 

 

Kevin had explained it all- the King’s personal request that Andrew was removed from his position and the Castle. Neil had run straight to the throne room. 

 

Neil sat on a bench, looking out at the courtyard, the panic settling into his chest, hands shaking. Andrew hadn’t lived outside the Castle in so long, since that one night where he’d saved Neil. Neil put his hands on the back of his neck and stood, walking to the gates. He’d meant what he said to his Uncle- he wasn’t coming back here. 

 

He walked through the gates, the guards opening them for him easily. Going to stables, Neil had a horse saddled, climbing on the animal and riding into town as fast as he could, the wind bitterly cold against his cheek. 

 

He rode to Nicky and Erik’s little cottage on the outskirts of town, close to the palace. Dismounting his mare and patting her mane, he knocked on the door, the midday sun not breaking through the icy chill. He hadn’t even stopped by his chambers to get a coat. 

 

Erik answered the door, and Neil opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words, but there were none. The panic and the fear and the anger choked up his throat as the tears began to fall. He gave a sob, and soon, big arms were circled around him. He cried into his best friend’s husband’s chest, completely and totally overwhelmed. 

 

Soon he was being sat on a plush lounge, mug with brew in hand. He took deep breaths as Nicky wrapped an arm around him, his husband sitting opposite them. 

 

“Andrew’s been thrown out of the palace,” he whispered, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. Nicky gave a faint gasp, shocked. “Someone told my Uncle about us. Or seen us walking down to the cottage,” he said quietly, the remorse audible. “I’m so scared for him.” 

 

“Andrew can protect himself, Neil, he will be fine,” Nicky soothed, rubbing his shoulder. 

 

Neil shook his head. He’s been gone all night, with no place to live. If the thugs haven’t to him yet, then the mobs definitely have,” he said gently. “He’s a fine looking man with virtually no money, what if he’s been kidnapped to be put into a brothel?” Neil speculated, shaking. 

 

Nicky looked helplessly at Erik, then back to Neil. “What do you want to do, Neil? What can we do?” 

 

“We have to go look for him. But I just… I thought I should come here, because I’m technically homeless. I abdicated from the throne. And yelled at my Uncle,” he said sheepishly. But despite the fear and the sheer terror of the whole situation, Neil began to grin. There was so much freedom in that one sentence, that Neil realised he didn’t really want to be King. 

 

Nicky gave a soft huff of laugh at that, rubbing Neil’s shoulder. “Well, what if Erik takes the East, I’ll take the West… We’re sure he’s not at the Castle?” he asked, rubbing Neil’s shoulder. Neil shook his head. “Then you can take the North. We’ll meet back here at sundown,” Nicky said, decisive and organised. Just as he finished speaking, Matt, Aaron, Kevin and Jean appeared in the doorway. 

 

“We’re here to help?” Matt offered, and Neil beams at him. 

 

Neil informed them of the plan, splitting the town between all of them. By mid afternoon, they had a plan, and plans for the plans, and plan for just in case. 

 

“Are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?” Jean asked Neil, holding his shoulder, like a brother. Neil looked up at him kindly, nodding. 

 

“I’d like to think my combat skills have improved since the last time we sparred, Bean,” he said teasingly, still very short in comparison, but very much grown in maturity. 

 

When Neil stepped out of the cottage and parted ways with the group, he felt the edges of panic settle back in, but he couldn’t afford to linger on it for any length of time. Neil went around, knocking on doors, asking around, searching through alleys. 

 

“A blond boy, you say?” crowed an elderly woman, pointing a finger towards an alley, scarf pulled tight around her head, her other hand clamped around a walking stick. “There was a few mean boys who may have taken him. Your generations are so rough these days. When I was a girl in Naran…” Neil sped off before she finished, but he didn’t have the time. 

 

He knew that he may not even find Andrew, he may not even hear a word about a short blond with an angry face. He knew, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, shining gold over the cobblestone paths and the white sandstone buildings, that he may return to a cold bed that night and not see Andrew for weeks. 

 

He knew that he might be too late already. 

 

He trembled as he began to run, too nervous to give up, the old woman’s advice running through his head.  _ What if I’m too late?  _

 

The alley is familiar in the worst kind of ways, because Neil can remember drowning in his own sweat as a man much taller than him drew a knife. Neil’s heart slams against his chest as he ran harder and faster, desperate to find him. 

 

Sharply, he turned a corner and was met with the distant sight of a body on the ground, two taller gangsters beating and kicking him. Neil didn’t know for sure, but if he was honest, he knew from the moment he saw that blond mop that it was Andrew. 

 

He stalked closely, listening to the men as they slurred their words and choked groans out of Andrew. 

 

“Maybe ‘e was givin’ the ring to some prossy down the road. You know these rich types,” one man said, the stench of alcohol and potent herbs on his breath, stinking from metres behind where Neil was standing. He grimaced as he tried to blend into the bricks, wondering if the man had ever cut his wiry beard. 

 

Neil’s eyes were plastered to Andrew’s bloodied face, not caving to the panic, not freezing up like he’d been tossed into a icy lake like he did all those years ago. Beil simply kicked under the legs of the first man, held him to the ground while he put his knife into the bicep of the other man. 

 

The man with the beard tried to get up but the choked scream from his partner made him give pause and then run back up the alley, leaving Neil in the now darkness, the sun having almost completely set. 

 

He knelt to the cobblestone, checking Andrew’s body for the worst damage. 

 

His white palace shirt was torn down the middle and bruises painted his pale skin, blood beading at the seams of torn skin, little cuts and a steady flow from his nose. Neil cut a piece off of the torn fabric to stop the bleeding. As he lifted the cloth to Andrew’s face, he finally looked at him properly. 

 

His eyebrows were bloodied and there were tears crusted at the corners of his eyes. Neil brushed away as much of the blood as he could, touch tender over the bruises, the cut lip.

 

“You found me,” Andrew croaked, voice rusted and throat sore. Neil’s heart breaks as he gives a soft laugh. 

 

“Course I did. Nothing better to do,” he whispered, touch gentle, just in case Andrew didn’t want to be touched. Andrew gave a minute nod, however and Neil rested his hand over Andrew’s cheek. 

 

“Not even run a kingdom?” Andrew asked, tone even in a way that betrayed his fear. Neil shook his head and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

 

“Not even that,” he said softly, and neither one wanted to break the moment, but Kevin did it for them. He held both the muggers by the scruff of the their necks, looking down at Neil. 

 

“These the ones, Highness?” he asked, deadly serious. Neil watched amusedly as realisation and then panic crossed the gangster’s faces. 

 

Neil gave a decisive nod. “Indeed. Is Matt-,” 

 

“Right here,” he said, grinning that same grin that Neil had seen since they were boys. He’d always be thankful for his Guard. 

 

Neil and Matt carried Andrew, who insisted on at least attempting to walk on his own two feet. Neil felt the exhaustion and the crash from the adrenaline hit him all at once as they stepped over Nicky’s threshold, and fell asleep on the couch as his friends tended to Andrew. When Neil’s eyes flickered over to his lover in a sleepy haze, he saw him lying on a bed, asleep, and more importantly, alive. 

 

__

 

When Neil woke, it was to the loud crashing of pots and pans in the kitchen, followed by laughter. He sat up, rubbing his eyes before looking around. He hadn’t realised how much tension he had been holding until it all bled from him as he saw Andrew through the open door to a bedroom. 

 

Walking to the room, Neil sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at him. 

 

The cuts had been stitched, the blood washed away. A salve had been applied to his bruises and grazes, and his arm had been put in a splint of sorts. 

 

“Must you always just sit and stare at me?” Andrew asked, fondness seeping through the sleepy rasp. 

 

Neil considered sniping back at him, but he simply smiled, relief too present in his sigh. “I must.” Andrew tried to sit up, but gave an aborted grunt. 

 

“Sit down, idiot, you’re going to hurt yourself worse. Lie down and rest while I scold you for running off without a word,” Neil said kindly, sharp words mitigated by the softness of his voice. Looking down at the sheer life evident in Andrew’s face, Neil leaned down to press the softest of kisses over his lips, hand cupping a bruised cheek so tenderly. 

 

When Neil pulled away, Andrew gave a soft huff. “If that’s how you’re going to scold me, please, feel free to continue,” he said, grinning cheekily. 

 

Neil rolled his eyes but leaned down to kiss him again. 


End file.
